Of Princes, Warlocks, and Neckerchiefs
by PhoenixoftheLostandForgotten
Summary: Morgana dares Arthur to steal Merlin's neckerchief, and people are making bets on what he will do. No one could have predicted what happened next. Scars-fic, possible reveal later. This story has no set direction, so anything could happen.


Of Princes, Warlocks, and Neckerchiefs

Summary: Morgana dares Arthur to steal Merlin's scarf. Everyone else is betting on how he will react. No one could have predicted what happened next.

"Arthur, why does Merlin wear his neckerchief all the time?" Morgana asked suddenly. "I have never seen him without it."

Arthur let out a long breath as he thought. "I honestly have no idea," he said, after a pause.

"Maybe he doesn't have a neck and that's the only thing keeping his head on," Gwen chimed in from the other side of the room. They were in Morgana's chambers, and Gwen was almost done cleaning.

"It isn't doing a very good job, then. He's worthless with anything physical," Arthur stated.

"But he's still alive after all the battles he's been through," Morgana countered.

"Only because he runs and hides like a little girl."

"Not all little girls run and hide. I've seen him in battle. He can defend himself just fine."

"When he's not falling over his own feet and dropping his sword."

"When he's not saving lives and protecting you."

"I don't need protection. I can handle myself."

"And so can he."

They glared at each other for a moment. "You're not scared of Merlin?"

Arthur shook his head no.

"Not even the tiniest bit?"

Again, no.

"Then you won't mind if I dare you to steal Merlin's neckerchief."

Arthur gaped at her for a moment. "What?" he gasped.

Morgana spoke to him slowly, enunciating each word. "I. Dare. You. To. Steal. Merlin's. Scarf."

"B-but..." he sputtered.

"Aww, is wittle Awther afwaid of big bad Merlin?"

"No! I am not!" he said, puffing up indignantly.

"Then what's the problem?" she asked innocently.

"No problem. I'm not a coward, I'll do it." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself than them. "I will steal Merlin's neckerchief!"

Word spread quickly about the dare. Everyone knew Merlin to some extent, and they all wanted to see what he would do. There was a betting pool on what would happen. Some said that Merlin would poison Arthur's food, while others said that he would just shake it off. One person even bet 20 gold coins that Arthur would just disappear one day. Another bet 10 gold coins that Merlin would have Gaius help him get revenge by making a potion of some sort. No one thought that what he would do was far worse (Or better, depending on where you stand) than what they could have imagined.

The day had finally arrived. The day that Arthur was going to steal Merlin's scarf. He already had a plan. He was going to wait until dinner. Merlin would deliver his food, clean his room a bit, draw a bath, then leave to do whatever is that Merlin does. When he turned around to leave, BAM! Neckerchief is gone. Arthur smiled to himself. This was going to be great!

"Will that be all, sire?" Merlin asked politely (Or sarcastically, Arthur couldn't tell).

"Yes, Merlin, that will be all," Arthur said. He let Merlin turn around and start walking towards the door. He snuck up behind him, reached around to the knot that tied the scarf together, and pulled it off. Merlin whirled around, giving Arthur a glare that could melt metal. He reached up a hand to cover his bare throat.

"Give me the scarf. Now." He ordered this in such a way that Arthur was reminded of Uther. His father used the same tone when he was royally pissed (Pun intended).

"Arthur, please give me the scarf." Merlin may have said please, but it wasn't a request. It was an order. His eyes were sharp and hard, and his voice was eerily calm.

Then, Arthur made the biggest mistake of his life. He said one word. "No"

Before that day, Arthur had never even thought about being scared of Merlin. If anyone had told him that his manservant was going to do what he was about to, he would have laughed and walked away.

Now he wasn't so sure.

He watched Merlin take his hand down from his throat. Arthur hadn't even noticed that the hand had been there the whole time. He glanced at the patch of skin that had always been covered, and gasped. There was a thin, silvery scar on his neck that ran across his throat, as if someone had tried to slit it and failed. There was another scar that wrapped from the side, to the back of his neck, then continued down his shirt onto his back. This one was thick and ropy. It was an ugly, pasty white. It looked like it had been made by some sort of spear or blade.

Arthur was so distracted by the scars that he forgot about their owner. He didn't notice the water pitcher swinging towards his head until it was too late.

Merlin gritted his teeth in anger. He couldn't believe Arthur had done this! They had always respected each other's privacy in the past, so why now? Merlin scowled at the unconscious boy on the floor. He was furious. Why, of all people, did it have to be Arthur who had to see the scars on his neck? Sure, he had worse scars on his body, but those were easier to cover. Merlin was rarely angry, let alone _this_ angry. But he was now, and when he was this mad, someone was in trouble.

He growled again and sat down on the bed. He had to think about what to do next. Arthur couldn't just get away with this! Merlin grinned savagely as an idea popped into his head. It was horrible, but perfect. He hopped off the bed and got to work.

The next day, the morning started as usual. The citizens of Camelot got up at dawn and went to their workplaces. Soon, there was a crowd in the marketplace. It was the usual hustle and bustle of the low town. In the courtyard outside the castle, however, it was anything but.

There was a crowd of a different kind in the square. People were shouting and pushing each other, trying to get to the front of the mob. It was mostly young women in front, with older people in the back keeping the little kids away.

Gwen fought her way to the front of the crowd, trying to see what all the fuss was about. When she finally got there, she blushed furiously and tried not to laugh. She made a mental note never to touch Merlin's neckerchief. She didn't want to end up like Arthur. He was hanging, unconscious, by his ankles from his window. He was totally naked, except for a very familiar red scarf tied around his neck.

See the little blue button down there? Click it. If you do, I might write another chapter.


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